


have we met?

by Noa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Guardiancest, Incest, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noa/pseuds/Noa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a stranger on Bro's roof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A small side note: Bro doesn't have his shades (yet).

Something’s taped to Bro’s front door.

At first Bro thinks a door to door salesman came by while he was out. However, when he gets closer to the yellow post-it note stuck to his door, he discovers the text scribbled on it is nothing like a sales pitch. Bro yanks the paper off and narrows his eyes at the chicken scratch handwriting.

_roof_  
 _strife_  
 _now_

A prank, maybe? Whoever this was, they had some guts. Not thinking much of it, Bro retrieves his katana and heads to the stairwell. As he’s about to take the first step up, Bro pauses, his foot hovering mid-air. Something was wrong.

Bro takes a step back. He runs an inspecting hand up the metal rail of the stairs, and looks up. A severed string dangles from the ceiling, the lone remains of a trap Bro set up himself. He gives the cord a puzzled look. No one should be able to just get to the roof without triggering his ‘safety precautions’. No one but his cousin Dirk, anyway, and he wasn’t even in town. With renewed confusion, and being slightly more on guard, Bro ascends the steps.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, but Bro is still somewhat shocked when there’s actually another person on the roof. This is all but sacred space to him, a Striders only zone, and whoever this guy was, looking out over the city like he just came home, Bro was going to make him regret desecrating holy ground. The man seems to have noticed Bro entering the roof, and he throws him a wave without turning around. He seems to be wearing some kind of business suit, though the shade is dark enough for fancy dress, and the cut looks looser here and there. A rich guy, probably. Bro’s fingers twitch around the hilt of his katana.

“Hey Bro.” The man says, still facing away.  
“I’m not your bro.” Bro spits back. “Who the hell are you.”  
“A friend.” Comes the simple reply. Bro’s not convinced.  
“How did you get up here.” He asks.  
“Much as I felt like scaling the side of the building with the dexterity and grace of Spiderman, I took the stairs. Risky, I know, but here I am.” His voice sounds light and flowing.

Bro glares at the back of the stranger’s head. Sassy _and_ rude. Great.

“Bullshit.” However he came up here, it couldn’t have been the stairs. Bro has no idea how the trap got dismantled but he refuses to believe it was by this asshole’s hands.

That’s when the man turns around, and Bro’s eyes widen when he spots a smuppet in his hands. Not just any smuppet either. The one that was supposed to trigger the traps set around the staircase. The other end of the string hangs from the toy’s grotesque nose, confirming Bro’s suspicions. Before he can speak up, the smuppet is tossed in his direction, and Bro fumbles to catch it. Who _is_ this guy?

“What do you want.” Bro asks once he’s collected himself. The man pushes up his aviator-style sunglasses, and Bro squints. Vain, too. Why isn’t Bro surprised.  
“A strife?” He answers, and Bro scowls.  
“I don’t strife with amateurs.”  
“Yeah I know,”

The man takes a step towards Bro (who instantly grips his weapon tighter), and kicks at the gravel. A shrill sound rings across the rooftop as a sword is flipped up from the ground, and caught in the stranger’s hand. Bro blinks, and the man smiles as he finishes his sentence.

“Neither do I.”

Now that’s a challenge if Bro’s ever heard one. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes that strifing a complete stranger on his own roof might not be the best idea, but this guy is cruising for a bruising and Bro is more than happy to provide. He raises his katana, and unlocks his knees. The man moves in a bit closer, and mirrors him, wearing a smug grin on his lips that Bro just can’t wait to wipe off. With the sharp end of his blade.

They don’t need a starting shot. As soon as Bro braces himself to attack, the stranger picks up on his body language, and they fall into the fight as if they choreographed it themselves.

In fact, it’s like the man knows every move Bro is about to make.

Bro struggles to hold his ground against a whirlwind of attacks that all seem strangely familiar, and when the stranger flash steps, Bro is so shocked at seeing someone else using his move that he forgets to dodge. He’s stunned, his thoughts preoccupied with figuring out who this was, how he dismantled the trap, why he wanted a strife-

Bro gets the thoughts knocked out of him, repeatedly, and he tries to defend but whoever this guy was, he was _fast_. Every attempt at retaliation ends with Bro striking at air, and he stumbles, losing his balance. It’s that Bro feels the punch to his jaw, because he sure as hell didn’t see it coming. He sees a glimpse of red before the other side of his face is struck, and the next thing Bro feels is the rooftop flooring to his back. He tries to get up but his body feels bruised and heavy, and he feels very tired all of a sudden. He hears footsteps pausing by his side, a soft chuckle, and moments later he hears the door to the roof falling shut.

Bro blinks up at the sky, unsure if the birds he’s seeing are real or a product of his dizzied mind. He decides to stall his decision until he’s had a nap, and lets his eyes slide shut.

It’s dark outside by the time Bro wakes up. Chilly, too. Bro grunts as he sits up and rubs his neck. He’s completely sore from having slept on the ground, and he drags himself to his feet before stretching out the kinks in his muscles. When he leans down to collect his katana, a small piece of bright white paper catches his eye. He picks it up to find it’s a business card, a clean font spelling out the name Dave Strider, followed by a number and an address. Bro frowns (Strider? They had the same surname?), and flips the card over. He recognizes the handwriting on the back from the post-it previously stuck to his door.

_good game_

Bro glares at the card as if he’s expecting it to apologize to him. The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t even a good game. He got served hard, no contest. That alone was embarrassing enough, but for this fucker to tell him ‘good game’ like he’s praising Bro for a shitty drawing he made and sticking it on the damn fridge just _really_ pisses him off.

He shoves the paper in his pocket, grabs his katana, and retreats from the roof. He’d figure out who this person was, and return the favor. Bro winces when he scratches his jaw, rudely reminded of the bruises currently forming on his face.

Right.

He’ll get to returning the favor later. For now, he needs an icepack. 


	2. Chapter 2

Bro inspects his bruises in the bathroom mirror. They’ve mostly faded by now, and stood out only if you knew where to look. Bro sighs at his reflection. This Dave Strider guy probably knew where to look, seeing how he put those bruises there himself.

It’s been a week since Bro strifed the (rather rude) trespasser; thinking of it still makes him cringe in shame. Can it be called a strife when Bro didn’t land even a single hit? Looking back, Bro blames his humiliating loss on the fact that he was caught off-guard. Not only did this guy intrude into private property, he also proposed a fight out of fucking nowhere. On top of that, he knew moves he wasn’t supposed to know. Moves no one but Bro knew. All in all the situation was very confusing, and led Bro to focus on anything but the actual strife. That’s why he lost. The time for revenge was nigh though, and this time, Bro will be the one handing out the hurt.

Bro sets out later that day, baseball cap keeping the sun from his eyes. The small business card Dave left him is crumpled up in Bro’s fist. The building isn’t hard to find (in fact, it’s kind of hard to miss), despite being located in the city center. Bro frowns at the fancy-looking exterior of the tall structure, and draws his blade. Without a second thought, he marches right through the front door, and looks around the lobby for any sign of Dave.

“Sir- Sir! You can’t just bring a weapon in here! Please leave!”

Bro turns around to look at the security guard who had just come running, and raises an eyebrow. Behind the reception desk, a young lady is talking on the phone as if she’s reporting a crime. Though there’s only about five people in the lobby, they are all in uproar, and Bro isn’t sure what all the fuss is about.

“I ain’t leaving.” He states simply. “I need to see Dave.”  
The guard’s eyes widen, and for a moment Bro wonders if he got the name wrong. The man raises his hands like he’s trying to pacify Bro, but he remains unimpressed.  
“Not like this, sir. You need to call and make an appointment-” He pauses, as if he just realized that Bro’s lack of an appointment isn’t the real issue here. “and don’t carry weapons inside!”

Just as Bro was about to tell the guy that he can carry whatever the hell he wants to carry, a soft chime comes from the elevator, and the heavy doors slide open to reveal a figure Bro recognizes instantly. All eyes are on the newcomer, who grins as he walks up to Bro and the guard.

“Mister Strider, sir, this man-”  
“Dismissed, soldier. I’ll take it from here.”

Bro watches with a bit of sympathy as the guard hesitates for a second, before he finally nods and scurries off. Bro then turns around to face the man who utterly destroyed him one week ago. He hopes the bruises stay unnoticed.

“Dave, huh.” Bro says. “You could’ve just introduced yourself.”  
“And you could’ve just called.” Comes the reply. Dave is making soothing hand gestures towards the lady behind the desk, who just keeps nodding the entire time. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but you made everyone shit themselves showing up like that.” Dave says.

Right as Bro is about to reply, Dave waves at him, signaling him to follow. Bro narrows his eyes. He’s already fed up with this guy’s bullshit and it hasn’t even been two minutes. He keeps his mind on revenge as he follows Dave into the elevator, glaring at him as he hits the button to floor 6. It’s a short ride, and neither of them say a word. Dave glances sideways at Bro right before the doors roll open, and Bro quickly takes his eyes off of Dave’s tie. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s been gripping his katana.

Dave leads him into a large office, and closes the door once they’re both inside. He covers his mouth as he yawns, and walks up to the large, mahogany desk in the center of the room, before casually lounging against it. He eyes Bro up, shoes to hat, and crosses his arms. Bro pushes his shoulders back a little.

“So,” Dave starts. “I’m gonna assume you have a reason for barging right into my workplace looking like you came straight from bad fashion fest ready to murder somebody.”

Bro forces away the embarrassment he feels bubbling up from his stomach. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t that good of an idea to just drop by without calling first. He should’ve at least kept the katana sheathed. Bro considers apologizing, but is then struck by the stunning revelation that he really doesn’t give a shit.

“We’re gonna strife again.” Bro says, resolute. It’s not even a question. Dave quirks an eyebrow.  
“I don’t know Bro, I’m a busy man.” He replies, and Bro can see the amusement playing around that bastard’s lips. Bro brings his blade up, pointing the tip directly at Dave’s throat, inches away from pricking his skin. Bro lowers his voice for emphasis.  
“Get creative, _bro_.”

Dave holds eye contact with him for a good few seconds before he shrugs, and nods. He pushes himself away from the desk, and rummages around a particularly messy corner of the room before retrieving a sword Bro has seen before.

“Elevator doesn’t go higher than six,” Dave explains, and Bro follows him out, past another door to reach the stairwell. “Hope you’re ok with stairs Bro.”

Neither of them are even slightly out of breath once they reach the roof after scaling eight flights of steps. Bro looks around. No gravel here, just panels of black, asphalt-like material that feel like sandpaper when he drags his shoes over it. There’s a waist-high fence around the edges, and the place feels kind of desolate. Dave probably doesn’t come up here a lot. A shame, Bro thinks, because the view is great.

“Bit bigger than what you’re used to.” Dave says, walking up to the opposite end of the roof. There’s a sly grin on his lips as he draws his blade. “Hope that won’t be a problem.”

Bro raises his katana, refusing to indulge Dave with a response to what’s obviously a taunt.

“You gonna use that shitty sword or are you just gonna talk to yourself all afternoon.” Bro says. Dave pushes up his sunglasses, and slides his foot back a bit, bracing himself.

Once again, no starting shot is needed.

They collide with equal speed, and Dave jumps away at the initial clash. He looks somewhat surprised, and Bro feels a rush of satisfaction. He chases Dave around the roof, throwing his entire body weight into the swings of his blade. While Bro knows he’s definitely offering more of a challenge than he did last time, Dave’s dodges stay well-timed and nimble. Disappointment overtakes Bro’s initial confidence at the ease with which Dave seems to have adjusted to Bro’s higher skill. This disappointment soon twists into frustration, as Dave continues to dance across the rooftop, light on his feet and quick with his strikes.

He’s baiting him, Bro realizes, freezing mid-lunge. Dave looks up at Bro’s sudden pause, and they hold each other’s gaze momentarily, until Bro decides to try a less aggressive approach. He backs up, and waits for Dave to initiate their contact. Once he does, Bro parries with a precision that leaves Dave stumbling- Bro takes his chance, and lashes out.

Dave hisses when Bro lands his first hit, and he barely jumps away in time to dodge the second. Bro’s confidence returns full force. Now that he’s figured out Dave's tactics, he can counter them, and the feel of the strife changes almost visibly from a one-way beat down to an evenly matched fight.

What follows is a flurry of limbs and blades. Bro avoids an upward slice, but the tip of Dave’s sword knocks his cap off. Not a second is spared to mourn as Bro moves in past Dave’s outstretched arm, and punches him cleanly across the face. Dave’s shades hit the rooftop flooring with an underwhelming clatter. Bro watches him blink at his lost eyewear, before Dave’s red eyes refocus on Bro, burning with adrenaline. Bro is so fascinated by the sight that he almost forgets to sidestep Dave’s next attack.

It seems to go on endlessly. Bro feels fatigue seep into his muscles, but the spaced out expression on Dave’s face tells him he’s feeling it too. Bro can’t give up, not when he’s so close to putting this asshole back in his place. Reaching into the reserves of his stamina, Bro flash steps forward, and Dave responds with a flash step of his own. Their blades meet with a force strong enough to generate sparks, and the sound of grinding metal rings loudly through the air.

Both men push against their weapons as if their lives depend on it, fiery eyes unblinking as they glare each other down.

Then, the Mission Impossible theme starts up from the breast pocket of Dave’s jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [♫](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pO2vLRrMWc)


	3. Chapter 3

Bro and Dave are on the roof of Dave’s office building. Their swords are connected in what looks like one of the most intense collisions in the history of strifing.

Then Dave’s phone rang.

The Mission Impossible tune goes on for a good 40 seconds before Dave speaks up.

“Hey is it cool if I get this.”

Neither of them even remotely relieves the pressure they are putting on their blade. Bro doesn’t let go of Dave’s gaze, and his expression shows no change when he answers.

“Sure man, be my guest.”  
“Thanks.” Dave replies.

Once again, no one moves. The two keep staring at each other like they’re waiting for the other to pull back first. The catchy ringtone stays undisturbed as it plays from inside Dave’s front pocket.

“Mind if we uh,” Dave nods down at their weapons.   
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Bro says, but he doesn’t withdraw. “After you.”  
Dave studies Bro’s face for a moment. The metal of their blades makes an uncomfortable sound as it grits together.  
“Count of three?” Dave offers.  
“Alright.” Bro says.

“One,” Dave draws out the word. Bro digs the toe of his shoe into the rough surface of the roof. The pressure with which Bro and Dave push against each other doesn’t lessen a fraction.

“Two,” Bro searches Dave’s eyes for any sign of insincerity. Instead, he again finds himself awed by their extraordinary hue, so he quickly drops his gaze back to Dave’s tie. Mission Impossible plays inexhaustibly, and Bro figures that the person trying to reach Dave must have a lot of patience.

“Three-”

Both men back up with a graceful jump. Dave turns away from Bro, fishes his phone from his jacket and answers the call. Bro takes a deep breath as he looks from Dave to the dusk-taken sky, and then down to the new tears in his clothes and fresh bruises on his skin.

If he has to be completely honest with himself, Bro isn’t sure how much longer he could’ve kept on strifing. Seeing Dave inspect his half-torn off sleeve while talking on the phone leads Bro to suspect it’s the same for him. A tie isn’t as good as a victory, but it’s less embarrassing than a loss. Besides, agreeing to a tie due to an interruption is a lot better than taking it as some sort of consolation prize. After this experience, Bro is even more certain that he can beat Dave. Next time, Mister Strider’s going down, and nothing’s going to get in Bro’s way.

Bro looks up when the sound of Dave’s voice stops, and he sees Dave tucking his phone back inside his pocket. Dave turns towards Bro and shows him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that. As I said, busy guy.”  
Bro wonders if Dave actually missed something important for this.  
“No problem.” Dave looks around the roof before glancing back at Bro. It was getting dark.

“I suppose your rematch will have to be rescheduled.” Dave comments.  
“I suppose so.” Bro says, collecting his cap and putting it back on. It feels a lot colder outside than it did when they first came up here.

It’s not until Dave heads back to the door that Bro stirs into action as well. As they descend the steps back down to floor 6, Bro can’t help but ask what he’s been wanting to know since their first encounter.

“Where’d you learn to strife like that?”

Dave doesn’t pause his steps. He stays quiet for so long that Bro begins to think Dave didn’t even hear the question. Once they return to Dave’s office, Dave opens his desk drawer and gets out a pair of shades identical to the ones he wore before. Bro watches with a touch of disbelief as Dave slides the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. Dave sighs like he’s been freed from the weight of the world, and flashes Bro a wide smile.

“Pizza?” Dave asks, and Bro blinks, positively confused.  
“What?”   
“Do you want pizza.” Dave repeats, and he gets out his phone again. “There’s a pretty sweet place around here that does deliveries. They give me a discount.” Dave adds the last part of that sentence with a childlike glee, and Bro resists the urge to roll his eyes. Dave looks up from his contacts list to frown at Bro’s silence.

“You can’t tell me you’re not hungry Bro. See it as my way of apologizing for the interruption.”

With that, Bro can comply. He shrugs, and glances around the spacious office for a place to sit down. Now that he gets to have a good look around, Bro notices that Dave’s office doesn’t look much like an office. It’s more of a dorm room, really. A very large dorm room. The mahogany desk is the only piece of luxurious furniture, and it seems out of place amongst the stuffy red futon and black IKEA bookshelves. The walls are decorated with posters and pictures, most of them featuring at least one or two celebrities smiling brightly at Dave’s side. Most of the shots look like they’ve been run through at least three different Instagram filters. It smells like expensive cologne and burnt matches.

Dave walks up to Bro’s side, and sticks his hands inside his pockets.

“Should be about twenty minutes.”

Bro looks up from studying the pictures, and gives Dave a puzzled look.  
“What?”  
Dave snorts, and shakes his head at Bro.  
“Pizza. It’s gonna take twenty minutes.” Bro’s frown doesn’t waver.   
“What’d you get.”   
“BBQ Chicken, no onions, extra cheese.” Dave tells him. “Good?”

Bro’s jaw drops a little. No way.

“How did you-”  
“Oh right, drinks. Hang on Bro, I’ll be right back.” Dave leaves for the door, but calls out to Bro before he closes it behind him. “You can sit down you know, just don’t bleed on my sofa. If you need it there’s a first-aid kit on the bottom shelf right there.”  
Bro dumbly follows to look where Dave’s pointing, and nods. When the door closes, and Dave is gone, Bro finally remembers to close his mouth.

This was starting to get a bit creepy. Sure, Dave could’ve guessed Bro’s usual pizza topping in a spectacular stroke of luck, but something tells Bro that Dave wasn’t blindly playing the odds. Maybe he’s just getting paranoid. It’s been a while since he hung out outdoors. Bro checks his legs for cuts, and then flops down on the (surprisingly comfortable) futon. He hears something crumple under his legs, and shifts to find he sat down on part of a magazine. He picks it up, and awkwardly tries to smooth out the wrinkled paper.

Bro holds his hand still when he notices the man featured on the cover of the magazine. He looks very familiar. Wheat blond hair, eerily pale, aviator shades… Bro reads the headline.

_Director Dave Strider does it again! New film rakes in five Oscars at the annual Academy Awards._

Bro almost grunts in realization. Dave is _that_ Dave? Dave Strider, as in, _Director_ Dave Strider? Holy fucking shit. _Holy fucking shit._ The walls of Bro’s cousin’s room are plastered with posters, pictures and cut-out articles featuring this guy. Bro thinks he even owns a few of Dave’s films himself. Wow. Bro feels like slapping himself in the face for not seeing it sooner. (It’s not like Strider is a common surname around these parts.)

“I hope AJ’s okay Bro, cafeteria fridge is looking about as empty as my manager’s smile.” Dave sets down the armful of snagged bottles save two, and walks up to the futon, leaning over to see what Bro’s looking at.

“Not my best cover.” Dave says, sounding a bit regretful. “Interview was hilarious though.” He holds one of the bottles up next to Bro’s cheek. “Here.”

Bro takes a while to catch up with what Dave said. He accepts the bottle in a somewhat mechanical fashion. He looks from the cover of the magazine, to Dave, and blinks. Dave raises an eyebrow.

“You cool?” Dave asks.  
“You’re Dave Strider.” Bro says after a short pause.  
Dave snorts.  
“Sharp observation there Bro. Should make use of that talent.”  
When Bro just stares at Dave’s face instead of laughing, Dave gives him a suspicious look.  
“Wait. You seriously didn’t know?”  
Bro just shakes his head. It’s dead silent for a moment, until Dave erupts into all-out laughter. Bro grins along awkwardly. He notices that one of the corners of Dave’s mouth curls up more than the other when he laughs, giving him a bit of a crooked smile, and Bro finds it fascinating.

Dave wheezes as he comes to, pushing up his shades to rub the start of tears from his eyes. He places a hand on Bro’s shoulder and takes a swig from his apple juice.

“Man. You’re fucking incredible.” Dave says. Bro looks at his own bottle as if he just remembered having it, and takes a sip. When there’s a knock on the door, both men look up.

“Pizza.” Dave explains as he goes to answer the door. He thanks his secretary as she stacks pizza boxes on Dave’s open palm before she heads back downstairs. Bro sets down his drink and gets up to help Dave, already seeing this balancing act going horribly wrong. He makes it just in time, taking the boxes from Dave’s hand right as they slide off. Against all odds, both pizzas reach the futon safely, and Bro and Dave kick back as they dig in.

It doesn’t take long before Bro’s earlier uneasiness dissolves, and by the time they’ve both finished their dinner it’s like it was never even there. They talk, laugh, and insult each other like they’ve been friends for life. It’s strange, Bro thinks, but it kind of feels like they _have_ been friends for life. Bro is comfortable in Dave’s presence, and something about Dave’s smile makes Bro feel like he’s seen it before.

“So your cousin’s a fan? Cool.” Dave has his legs up on the coffee table, next to the two emptied pizza boxes. Bro is flipping through the half-crumpled magazine, and hums.  
“He’ll flip his shit when he hears about this.” Bro muses. Dave shakes his head.  
“And you still didn’t recognize me. Un-fucking-believable.” Bro shrugs.  
“You don’t look much like a movie director.” He says, and Dave gasps in mock offense. He’s about to retaliate when Bro spots him glancing at the clock. It’s getting late.

“I should get going.” Bro says, wanting to save Dave the trouble of kicking him out.   
“Hope I didn’t keep you.” Dave replies, getting up and brushing the crumbs from his clothes.  
“Nah. It’s just me and my Wi-Fi back at home.” Bro says, and Dave chuckles.  
“Sweet. Hey,” Dave gets his phone out, messes around with it a little, and then hands it to Bro. “I’ll need your number so we can reschedule that strife.”  
Bro takes the device with a nod, and types in a string of digits.   
“Thanks.” Dave says as he takes his phone back.  
“Sure.” Bro picks up his katana, and heads for the door. Dave holds up his fist as Bro is about to leave.   
“Later, Bro.” Dave says. Bro grins, and touches Dave’s fist with his own.  
“Later.”

A weird, hollow feeling creeps up on Bro as he walks home, like he’s forgetting something important. He tries to remember on the way back, but by the time he gets home, Bro’s forgotten what he was trying to recall in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

Bro is mending one of his shirts when his cellphone rings. Caught up in his sewing, he picks up without checking to see who’s calling.

“Strider.”  
“Yeah me too.”

It takes Bro a moment to recognize the voice on the other end of the line. He sticks his needle into a pincushion (also known as the armrest of the futon), and moves the phone to his other ear.

“Dave, hey.” It’s been over a week. Bro wasn’t about to admit it, but he’s been wondering when Dave would call.  
“Sup.” Dave sounds a lot more serious over the phone than he does in real life. There sounds of voices and phones ringing in the background, and Bro actually feels a bit intimidated. Dave continues. “Hey so remember telling me your cousin’s a fan and shit?”  
“Yeah, why.” Bro answers, a bit taken aback that Dave isn’t calling to settle their score.  
“There’s gonna be this get-together to celebrate my new film’s Oscars. Low profile. If he’s up for it, he’s invited. So are you.” Dave adds the final part as an afterthought.

Bro is stunned. He’s not sure what to say.

“Thanks.” He ends up stammering. On the other end of the line, Bro hears Dave talking to someone else for a moment.  
“Yeah no problem Bro.” Dave says when he returns to the conversation at hand. “I’ll text you the info later.”  
“OK.” Bro replies dumbly, still out of it.  
“Cool. I’ll be in touch.”

Bro manages to make a confirming sound into the receiver before Dave hangs up the phone. Shortly afterwards, he receives a text message with the address and time. It’s at Dave’s museum, Bro discovers with a quick Google search (was there a life before smartphones?). When Bro’s phone lights up with another message, Bro initially thinks Dave changed his mind. Instead, it’s questionably friendly advice for Bro to show up in formal wear if he plans on attending. Or, as Dave so eloquently put it:

_‘not saying i dont like your getup but youll get more press than me wearing a cap like that you feel me’_

Bro stares down at the polo shirt he’s been sewing up, and heaves a somewhat concerned sigh. Guess he’d be getting a rental.

He shoots Dirk an IM the next day, and is immediately smothered in a riptide of uncharacteristic excitement. Bro doesn’t even get the chance to toy with the idea of not going, because Dirk doesn’t have his permit yet, and the date is inconvenient for his -very busy- guardian. Unwilling to take this opportunity away from his cousin, Bro agrees to play chauffeur, and resigns to joining Dirk at the gathering by picking up a rental suit later that week.

Dirk is already waiting outside when Bro arrives to pick him up. His hands are stuck in the pockets of his slacks and his jaw is clenched as he tries not to shiver from the cold. He all but jumps inside the car as soon as Bro comes to a stop, and greets his uncle with a fist bump. He’s wearing a three-piece navy suit that looks a bit too mature on someone his age, though the SBaHJ printed tie does a good job making up for it. Next to Dirk, Bro can’t help but feel very underdressed in his two-piece charcoal. He’s not even wearing a tie, but Dirk compliments the fact that he chose to keep his sneakers on, and it makes him feel better. (It was more of a necessity than a choice, really. You can’t rent shoes as easily as you can rent suits.)

As he drives to the location, Bro comes to the somewhat embarrassing realization that he’s nervous. He is actually nervous about seeing Dave again, in an environment that’s unfamiliar to him, surrounded by people he doesn’t know. Dirk’s enthused ranting takes a bit of the edge off, but the gnawing in Bro’s stomach doesn’t seem to fade. Bro would’ve made a U-turn three stoplights ago if it weren’t for Dirk sitting right next to him. He perseveres though, and listens as attentively as he can while Dirk talks on and on about Dave’s cinematic accomplishments. That’s what family’s for.

Dirk falls silent when they walk from their parking spot to the museum, and Bro teases him about getting to meet his crush. Dirk scoffs and sneers, but there’s a certain spring in his step, and Bro finds it kind of adorable. If nothing else, it’s a great distraction from feeling his heartbeat crawl up his throat as they approach the museum’s entrance.

The doorman gives them a weird look when Bro tells him their names, but they’re on the list, so he lets them in without a word. In the hall stands another man, who instructs them both not to take pictures in a tone that reveals he’s been giving every visitor the same, scripted warning. This is when Bro first suspects that this party isn’t at all as ‘low profile’ as Dave had made it sound. When Bro and Dirk are let past the second set of doors into the exhibit area, Bro’s suspicions are confirmed.

It’s not crowded, but it’s bustling. Small clusters of people are gathered around round bar tables, waitresses and waiters offering them drinks from large, fancy looking trays.  Dirk looks around as if his eyes will pop out of their sockets any minute now, undoubtedly recognizing some people from Dave’s films here and there.

“Hey, is it OK if I walk around a bit?” Dirk asks, and Bro nods.  
“Sure kid. Just don’t let them catch you using those glasses, and hands off the booze.” Dirk grins before he walks off, and Bro shakes his head as he watches his cousin disappear between the guests and display cases. Bro hopes the camera installed on Dirk’s sunglasses isn’t as obvious to the rest of the party as it is to him.

It doesn’t take long before Dave shows up in front of Bro. He appears so suddenly it’s like he flash stepped, but if Dave is anything like Bro, he doesn’t just pull that shit in public. Bro doesn’t waste time thinking about it because Dave’s smile is wide and welcoming, and rather than a fist bump, Dave leans in for a quick, politically correct hug. It’s more a touch of shoulders, Dave’s right brushing against Bro’s right as they give each other two calculated pats on the back. Bro recognizes the scent of Dave’s cologne, and it jumpstarts that same, nagging feeling in his stomach.

“Glad you could make it.” Dave says. “Your cousin with you?”  
“He’s around here somewhere.” Bro says, and Dave nods.  
“Cool. Well, enjoy yourself Bro.”

Dave moves on quickly, his role as host keeping him from standing in the same spot for more than a few minutes. Bro takes a glass from the next tray that’s held up to him, and glances around the exhibition hall to figure out Dirk’s whereabouts. He’ll kill him when he finds out Dave came up to Bro while he was elsewhere, and knowing that kind of makes Bro grin.

The music playing through the museum hall is unlike anything he’s ever heard before: it sounds like a mixture of jazz and rap, and strange as that combination may seem, Bro likes it. He stands by himself for a while, drinking a little and sampling various snacks, until a gentle yet strong voice draws his attention away from his people-watching.

“Good evening.”   
Bro turns around to see a woman, not much younger than he is, standing by his table. She’s wearing a tuxedo rather than a dress, and pulls it off better than most of the men Bro’s seen so far.   
“Hi.” He answers, trying to remember her name. She looks familiar.  
“I’m Rose,” The woman says, extending her hand for Bro to shake. He does so, and instantly remembers where he’s recognizing her from. The author’s portrait on the back of one of his favorite books. She gives a shockingly firm handshake. “Dave’s sister. You must be the one he’s been telling me about.”

“He told you about me.” Bro comments carefully. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the two of them were related. Maybe Lalonde was just Rose’s pen name? Now that he gets a better look at Rose’s face, he notices that the two do look kind of similar. She nods.

“Repeatedly.” She tells him.  
“Oh.” Well this is a bit awkward. Of _course_ Dave would tell his sister about the lunatic showing up at his office with a damn katana and a baseball cap. Bro runs a hand through his hair, and Rose’s eyes follow his movement. It’s like she’s studying him, and Bro isn’t too sure what to make of her piercing, purple gaze.

“I like your choice of footwear.” She says.  
Bro looks down at his high-tops, then back up to find Rose’s dark lips pulled into a grin. He grins back.  
“Thanks. Hey, do you know what music’s playing?”  
“Oh, yes.” She answers, and she sets down her clutch purse on the small table. Bro pushes a bowl of cashews towards her and she accepts with a smile. “I believe Dave composed this himself.”

Rose isn’t at all as intimidating as she first appeared. In fact, it looks like they’ll get along just fine, and Bro is starting to feel a lot less nervous about his presence here (which is good, because the night has only just begun). 


	5. Chapter 5

Rose spends some time chatting with Bro. He discovers she makes very pleasant company, and he’s thankful she’s offering him an out from shuffling around this place by himself. Bro isn’t sure how much time has passed when Dirk rejoins him, but shortly afterwards, Rose excuses herself. Dirk tilts his head at her as she leaves.

“You know Miss Lalonde too?” He asks Bro.  
“Not really.” Bro answers.  
“You get around, don’t you.” Dirk says. He sounds more amused than envious, but Bro still gives him a look. Their stare-down gets interrupted by something that sounds like a car horn being honked continuously. Conversations fall silent, and everyone turns to find Dave standing on an elevated platform, looking out over the exhibit room. He smiles widely when he’s got everyone’s attention, and Dirk shushes Bro –not that he was saying anything- while Dave clears his throat.

“Greetings, loved ones.” Dave says, already earning a few chuckles from his audience. Bro notices Dirk fingering the frame of his shades, and puts two and two together. He’s recording.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of me,” Dave uses both hands to gesture towards himself. “And three men.”  
More laughter bubbles up amongst the guests as a new display case gets rolled into the room, showcasing three Oscars.   
“Would’ve been five, but I don’t want my actors to feel left out.” Dave adds, and Bro sees him winking at someone up front.

“What’d he get those for anyway.” Bro whispers to Dirk, while Dave goes on.  
“Best Sound Mixing, Best Cinematography and Best Director.” Dirk answers under his breath. He sounds a bit annoyed, so Bro decides not to press him for more info.

That’s an impressive lineup of awards, though. Bro watches as Dave continues addressing his guests, calling out and thanking the cast, as well as other people involved in the making of his latest film. He’s a great public speaker, Bro realizes, with deadpan humor that never fails to trigger laughter, and a charming smile (that never fails to make Bro smile as well). Bro glances sideways at Dirk to find him looking on with love struck eyes, and much as Bro hates to admit it, he’s kind of taken in by Dave as well. It’s hard not to be.

Dave’s talk comes to an end with a toast, and Dave’s eyes meet Bro’s for a split-second as they raise their glasses- Bro lowers his glass again only to slam its contents down his throat, hoping it’ll settle that persistent buzz in his stomach. There’s applause, and then the party is back in full swing.

Dirk is already gone when Bro looks to his side. Everyone is walking around. Empty glasses are being collected and replaced with filled ones, fresh snacks are being offered and it’s all a little bit overwhelming. Bro isn’t scared of people, but he’s not used to being around this many of them either. Especially not when they are all in fancy dress and at least half of them is a celebrity in one way or another.

Bro looks around the hall. There’s a second floor covering half of the first floor, reachable by a floating staircase. It seems less busy up there –understandably so, since those stairs look positively terrifying- so Bro scales the steps. He’s able to look down to the floor below, and only now realizes just how many people are packed into the museum tonight. Low profile, yeah, _right_.

When Bro feels a sudden, cool draft, he turns around to find its source. Next to a large, framed SBaHJ print are heavy double doors, opened to reveal a small balcony. Perfect.

Bro steps out onto the balcony, and immediately feels better. It’s cold outside, but the breeze is refreshing, and it wasn’t as loud out here either. Bro slides his hands into his pockets and looks out over the city. It’s not that high up, so he can’t see that far, but it’s a nice view regardless. Especially at night, when lit-up rooms are dotted across tall buildings and car lights fly down roads like shooting stars, it’s the kind of sight you’d paint in oils.

“View’s nice huh.”

Bro startles- he jerks around to see Dave walking up to his side(how did he miss the sound of his footsteps?).

“Yeah.” Bro replies. He sees Dave take in a deep breath, face calm and relaxed as he admires the view. The countless lights are reflected in his sunglasses- for some reason, Bro isn’t even surprised to see Dave wearing them at night. Dave looks calm, comfortable, and Bro figures that evenings like this aren’t anything special to him anymore. Bro is somehow comforted by Dave’s company alone, and he stays quiet until Dave breaks the silence.

“Cool to have you here, man.” Dave says, and while Bro didn’t think Dave’s previous greeting was insincere, this one feels a lot more meaningful. “I saw your cousin just now. Smart kid. Great tie.”

Bro snorts, and shakes his head a little.

As they stand side by side on the balcony, staring at the dark sky and the not-quite-sleeping city underneath it, Bro recalls when Dave first showed up on his roof. He knows more of him now. A lot more, but there’s still plenty he’d like to ask. How did he disarm that trap, for starters, and why did he even want to strife Bro? Where did he learn the skills he employed to utterly wreck him? Dave seems to know things: if Bro didn’t put zero credit into supernatural occurrences (well, except for ghosts. Ghosts are real.), he may have considered Dave to be a psychic or something. But psychics aren’t real, and Dave is.

Dave is very real. The surreal experience of being in a museum after closing hours to party with A-rate superstars doesn’t take away from Dave’s down-to-earth appearance. He’s not a hair different from how he was when they had pizza together in Dave’s office; cool yet mellow, approachable, endearingly dorky and really fucking handsome. Dave’s head tilts slightly in Bro’s direction and Bro quickly averts his eyes. Dave’s sunglasses make it hard for Bro to determine whether or not he’s being looked at.

“Been having a good time?” Dave asks. Bro presses his lips together, and nods.   
“Awesome.” Dave says.

Dave flashes him another one of those beautifully crooked smiles, and Bro finally grasps that the feeling in his stomach consists of dozens of butterflies, wings fluttering as they scatter from his core.

Well, shit.

Dave doesn’t look away, and Bro kind of glances around to avoid having to search for his eyes.

“I gotta say Bro, you’re really rocking that suit. Should dress up more often.” Dave says.   
“Thanks.” Maybe Bro should actually purchase this one. Every wardrobe has a suit, right? It’s not _that_ uncomfortable, really, as long as he doesn’t have to wear a tie. While Bro’s thoughts run away with him, Dave moves a bit closer.

“So I’m gonna be watching a movie later,” Dave starts, lowering his voice. “back at my place.”

Bro looks up and blinks. He’s sure Dave’s looking right at him, and Bro’s face grows hotter.  
“I gotta,” Bro pauses, raises his arm, and points his thumb back towards the hall behind them. “I gotta bring the kid home. I’m his ride.”

They hold eye contact for a moment. Then, Dave nods, and his next smile seems to be one of resignation.

“Right, of course.” Dave says, back to his regular volume. He makes a start to head back inside, but not before placing a hand on Bro’s shoulder. “Next time, then.”   
Inside his pockets, Bro digs his nails into his palms to keep himself from stuttering.  
“Yeah, definitely.”

With that, Dave disappears back into the museum. Bro watches him go, turns to look out over the balcony and draws in a deep breath. Did Dave really just- Was that- Is Bro imagining this or-

It’s a damn shame he has to drive later because Bro could really use a drink right about now. Carbonated water just doesn’t quite cut it when it comes to soothing a speeding heart.

Bro descends the stairs and seeks out Dirk.

“You ready to go?” Bro asks. He feels a bit bad for absconding so suddenly, but he has to get out of here before he changes his mind on Dave’s offer. He thinks it was an offer. It sounded like an offer.

“Are you kidding me?” Dirk says. “I could live here.”  
Bro snorts, and nods towards the exit. Dirk sighs one of his ‘do I _have_ to?’ sighs, but follows without complaint.

They aren’t the first to leave, which makes Bro feel better. A well-dressed woman at the door asks him if he would like her to retrieve his car, but he thanks her and declines. Man, rich people. It’s quiet on the parking lot, and emptier than when they arrived. Once Bro’s started the engine, Dirk instantly reaches for the heater, and Bro frowns.

“It can’t be that cold.” He says as he buckles up. Dirk scoffs.  
“It’s freezing. You’re lucky your window didn’t get iced while we were inside. What, did you catch a fever in there?”  
“Put your seatbelt on.”

On the way back to Dirk’s place, Dirk tells Bro that he got Dave to sign his tie. Textile safe marker, obviously. A true Strider, that kid was prepared for everything. Dirk’s guardian stands by the opened door of their home as Bro pulls up, and they throw each other a wave while Dirk thanks Bro profusely, and gets out of the car. Bro waits until his cousin’s inside before he leaves.

Much to his discomfort, Bro’s body still feels afloat. It’s a strange sensation to say the least, but it comes hand in hand with childlike excitement that keeps Bro’s fingers tapping the steering wheel as he drives back home.

He’d have to get his hands on the CD being played at the museum tonight- for some reason, the music’s stuck in his head.


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next week, there is a complete radio silence between Bro and Dave. There’s no particular reason behind it; Bro just has no idea what to talk to Dave about. His life isn’t all that exciting, and what’s he supposed to do? Invite Dave over to _his_ place? Haha. Right. That’ll outdo a celebrity party any day.

It doesn’t stay completely quiet, though. Dirk gives Bro a call, thanking him again for taking him to the museum. He asks Bro to relay the message to Dave when he sees him again, and the light bulb accompanying Bro’s epiphany is near-visible. With his heart in his throat and his courage in his shoes, Bro grabs his cell and punches Dave’s private number into the keypad.

The phone rings five times before it’s answered. Bro doesn’t remember having ever waited this long for someone to pick up.  
“Bro, hey.” Dave must’ve recognized Bro’s number (maybe he added him to his contacts?). Not hearing noise in the background makes for a world of difference from when Bro called Dave at work. He swallows before he speaks up.

“Hey Dave.”  
“Yo, what’s up man.”  
“Yeah I just called ‘cause my cousin wanted me to thank you for him, y’know, for the invitation to last week’s thing.” Bro paces from one end of the room to the other as he grips the phone hard enough to hurt.

“No problem, I’m glad he had a good time.” Dave says.  
“Me too. I mean, I had a good time too.” Bro cringes. Yeah, good job, that wasn't awkward at all. Keep going.  
“Great.” Bro can hear a smile in Dave’s voice. He realizes it might be there because Dave is amused by his jumbled sentences, but that doesn’t make it sound less nice.

Silence falls, and it weighs heavy on Bro’s tongue as he tries to think of something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

“You know we still have some unfinished business.” Bro tries not to sound too excited.  
“We do?” Dave asks, but shortly after he follows it up with: “Oh yeah, we do. That strife.” There’s some rustling on the other end of the line. “I could swing by in an hour or so, that cool?”

Bro freezes mid-step.

“Here?” He asks carefully.  
“Yeah? Last time I checked your place had a roof.” Dave jokes, and Bro forces himself to laugh along. He nervously glances around the room. Calling it a mess would be a huge understatement. Bro considers asking him if he can drop by a bit later, but what if Dave’s busy for the remainder of the day? When will he have time again if not for right now?

So, Bro ends up agreeing. “Sure.”  
“Cool. Later Bro.”

Dave hangs up before Bro can reply. He just stands there for a moment, cellphone still held to his ear, wondering why he couldn’t bring himself to just say no when Dave invited himself over. The answer to his question flutters in Bro’s stomach when he thinks of seeing Dave again. Bro looks at his watch. He doesn’t normally flash step around the house, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

Bro nearly jumps out of his skin when the doorbell rings. It’s been one hour by the second, and as he heads for the door Bro curses Dave for being the one damn celebrity who doesn’t have a notion of being fashionably late.

He’s fashionable, though. Bro swings the door open to find Dave in what looks like one of his work suits. His sword is slung back, resting on his shoulders and Bro can’t imagine Dave just walked down the street like that without getting eyes. Then again, it’s very likely Dave can’t walk anywhere without getting eyes, armed or not. Bro steps aside to let Dave in, and doesn’t realize he’s forgetting to say hello until Dave greets him himself.

“Looking a little tense there Bro, you can still back out you know.” Dave teases as he enters the place, and Bro slams the door shut with a bit more force than he intended to use. He picks up his katana while Dave looks around the room, and Bro can only pray he didn’t leave any dodgy shit lying around for Dave to find.

There’s a tension between them as they scale the steps up to the roof. Not just because last time they saw each other, Dave sort-of invited Bro over to his place in a manner that implied they’d be doing everything _but_ watch a movie- it was the kind of tension shared between rivals, equals, who both knew that the fight they were about to have wasn’t going to be won easily.

The air outside feels chilly, and Bro smells pending rain when he breathes in. Dave calmly takes his place opposite of Bro, and cracks his neck. With some effort, Bro manages to put every thought of butterflies aside, and by the time he raises his katana, he’s staring at Dave the way he’d stare at an opponent. Dave smiles, and there’s a hint of a flutter, but Bro adjusts his cap and wills it away. There’ll be time for weird feelings later.

Bro has a score to settle.

Their strife starts just like the ones before, but nothing about their battle feels the same. Bro is aware of Dave’s technique, and he dances around Dave’s strikes like a reversed image of their first fight. Dave catches on quickly, and changes his approach, but Bro has been training and he’s able to keep up.

The first hit falls a lot quicker than it had previously, and it’s Bro who lands it. Dave absently checks his cheekbone for blood as he jumps away. He seems surprised when his hand comes back clean.

“Nice one.” Dave comments. Bro is so locked into concentration that he almost doesn’t hear him.  
“Thanks.”

Things seem to come naturally after that. Bro takes the offensive, and though Dave makes it challenging, Bro keeps it. In what is probably one of Dave’s last attempts to turn the tides, Dave spins towards Bro and lashes out- Bro sways to the side, making Dave lunge at nothing but air. Bro drops a kick to Dave’s lower back, sending him face-first into the door downstairs. Dave recovers and turns around just in time to receive a shoulder to the throat: the impact shocks him into dropping his sword.

Bro’s heart hammering inside his chest doesn’t drown out the sound of Dave panting, which soon twists into breathy chuckles. Dave tips his head back against the solid surface behind him.

“Alright Bro,” Dave starts. “you got me.”

Bro moves to pull off of Dave, victory leaving him half in disbelief and half exhilarated, only to find Dave has hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Bro’s jeans. He catches a flash of red, sparkling eyes and a crooked grin before he’s tugged forward, and Dave closes the space between their lips.

It’s brief. Their kiss seems to end as soon as it started, but it’s not short enough for Bro to miss the softness and warmth of Dave’s mouth on his own. Dave smells nice, and Bro thinks that’s pretty impressive right after a strife, but then he hears the door handle click and Dave slips through, and away. Bro takes a deep breath before he follows the sound of Dave’s light footsteps downstairs.

Back at the apartment, Dave brushes down his suit while Bro gets a soda from the fridge. He looks at Dave for a moment, pensive, and then holds up the bottle.

“Can I get you something?” Bro asks, cheeks still a little red from more than just jumping around the roof. Dave buttons his jacket back up and throws Bro an unconcerned wave.

“Nah, I’m cool. Still got a shitload of work to do, so I should bounce.”  
“Oh.”

Bro sets his drink aside and accompanies Dave to the door. As he goes to open it, Dave’s fingers reach for the popped collar of Bro’s shirt. Bro’s hand stills on the doorknob.

“Should ask me out sans strife sometime.” Dave says, gently folding Bro’s collar down. The room feels a bit hotter.  
“Yeah,” Bro says softly. “Alright.”

Dave withdraws his hands, and there’s that smile again, and before Bro realizes what he’s doing he’s leaning in. Dave returns his kiss, chaste and sweet, and when Bro reopens his eyes the door is open as well. Dave steps outside, and salutes Bro with two fingers to the side of his shades.

“Later Bro.” Dave slides a hand inside his pocket, and slings his sword over his shoulders.  
“Later.” Bro replies. He watches as Dave turns on his heel, and doesn’t blink until he’s out of sight.

Once shut, Bro rests his forehead against the door and closes his eyes. A stupid grin creeps up on his face in a matter of seconds, and Bro cusses through it, shoulders shaking with quiet snickers.

Balls.

Holy motherfucking shitballs.

He’s in love.


	7. Chapter 7

Bro has never had such strong feelings towards an inanimate object.

Yet, every time his phone buzzes, Bro’s heart seems to escape his chest. He’s dropped the thing five times already, playing around with it as he works. (He tried putting it away, but that just made him get up every other minute to check for new messages).

Dave’s been texting. When there’s no reply for a while, Bro is ready to fling the device into the nearest wall- right up until the small screen lights up with a notification and he returns to holding his phone like it’s a newborn child. He’s acting like a love-struck teenager, and while this uncharacteristic behavior is a bit embarrassing, it’s also kind of… fun? He feels perpetually cheerful, energized, passionately singing along to cheesy love songs and smiling more than he has in ages.

Neither of them brings up the kiss(es) they shared, but Bro thinks his interest in Dave is mutual. It _looks_ mutual. Despite the contents of their texts being mostly small talk, new messages arrive fast and frequent; fortunately, awkward silences seem to occur only when they are face to face. Sometimes, there’s even a bit of flirting, and Bro can only hope he hasn’t gotten rusty during the time he’s spent out of the loop.

While Dave’s only been in Bro’s life for about a month, it feels close to a lifetime. The more they learn about each other, the more Bro finds himself already knowing, like Dave’s birthday, and his favorite color. Bro figures he must’ve remembered bits and pieces from magazines or TV appearances Dave’s done, though he doesn’t quite remember paying particular attention to either of those before he met Dave.

Recently, Bro looked up Dave’s Wikipedia page for the first time. Dave linked him, actually. Told him he liked to randomly change the information on the page, and see how long it took for someone to notice. At the moment, Dave was 87 years old, had won two Nobel prizes (one for peace, and one for swag), and was one of the few proud men walking this earth with three testicles between their legs. Bro was shaking with laughter as he texted Dave.

BRO: Unbelievable.

His reply is quick. It always is.

TG: its incredible isnt it   
BRO: Goddamn gorgeous.   
BRO: I’m so fucking proud of you.   
TG: thanks bro

Bro’s grin dims into a small smile as he stares at his phone. It’s like something just happened, something really good. There’s an inherent happiness that follows, but Bro can’t for the life of him grasp the reason behind this sudden wave of nostalgia. It stays with him for a while, until the feeling fades, and Bro forgets.

It’s an especially cold Sunday morning when Bro succumbs to a stroke of bravery. He’s sitting cross-legged on the futon in a jumper and sweat pants, typing up a text with certain determination.

BRO: You up yet?   
TG: swag never sleeps   
BRO: Got any plans today?   
TG: not really why   
TG: are you asking me out

They haven’t seen each other since their last strife. Since that kiss neither of them has brought up yet. Bro presses his head back into the futon, stares at the ceiling and heaves a heavy sigh before he wills himself to persevere. He’s a grown man. He can ask another grown man out. No big deal.

BRO: Think I owe you a date sans strife.   
TG: im down   
TG: got anything in mind or   
BRO: Xbox and pizza at my place?

The four seconds it takes for Dave to reply are the worst four seconds of Bro’s life.

TG: sounds perfect man   
TG: you can contact my secretary for my availability   
TG: just kidding   
BRO: Haha.   
TG: so what time is this happening   
BRO: 4pm good?   
TG: yeah that works   
BRO: Cool.   
TG: cool   
TG: see you later   
BRO: Later.

Bro exits the chat, locks his phone and carefully puts it aside.

Then, he jumps up from the couch, fist pumps with both hands, and yells ‘Fuck yeah!’ loud enough for the entire block to hear.

At exactly four in the afternoon, the doorbell to Bro’s apartment rings. Bro sprints from the bathroom (mirror) to get it, but then remembers something at the last minute- he hurriedly folds his collar down before he opens the door.

Much to Bro’s relief, Dave opted for something more casual than a suit this time. He traded slacks for dark jeans and left the suit jacket at home, though he’s still wearing a tie. He looks nice, but not in a way that would make Bro feel underdressed in his own shirt and jeans. Dave raises his hand in greeting, and Bro steps aside to let him in. Dave openly checks him out as he enters, but Bro makes sure to keep their eyes from meeting.

“Nice shirt.” Dave says while Bro closes the door.  
“Thanks.” He murmurs, quickly heading towards the kitchen. “Want something to drink? I got apple juice, or we could just have soda or something, I can make coffee if you want,”  
“AJ’s awesome, thanks.” Dave interrupts gently. Bro nods as if he was stupid to ask, and gets out two bottles of apple juice. Dave takes one, inspects the label, and looks up at Bro with a somewhat surprised grin.

“How’d you know?” Dave asks. When Bro seems confused, Dave elaborates. “This is the same stuff I have at work.” He says. “It’s my favorite.” He adds in afterthought.  
“Really?” Bro asks, pretending he had no idea (and that he hadn’t spent a good three hours finding that exact same brand earlier today). “Funny coincidence.”  
Dave gives Bro a look, but Bro hides his face by quickly downing half of his drink.  
“Yeah.” Dave says, a smile playing around his lips. “Funny.”

Turns out Dave is surprisingly good at video games. He actually provides a challenge for Bro, where no one has been able to do that since Dirk last used cheat codes. Watching Dave play is fun on its own, and Bro ends up skipping his turns with the controller just so he can see Dave work his magic. It’s not until Dave gets dangerously close to breaking Bro’s high scores, that Bro feels like it’s time for a break. He gets more drinks, pre-heats the oven while he’s in the kitchen, and saunters back to the futon.

“Have I told you I like your place?” Dave asks, accepting another bottle of apple juice from Bro’s hands. Bro shrugs, and flops back down next to Dave.  
“Kinda small, but it works. Been here all my life.”  
Dave nods thoughtfully. “I like it. Very homey.”  
“Thanks.” Bro says. He glances sideways at Dave, and just stares at him for a while. Bro’s stomach turns when he considers bringing up the topic he’s been avoiding, but his heart pulls him through.

“So,” He starts, but he immediately regrets speaking up. This is a terrible idea, abort, abort. Dave doesn’t let him retreat though, and looks up at Bro with a single eyebrow raised.  
“So?”

Bro blinks. Dave has a nice face. Soft, yet fiery, approachable, but distant enough to maintain an aura of cool. Bro likes his face. This would be a great time to say something.

“Am I gonna have to beat you in a strife every time I want to kiss you?” Bro feels like his chest might burst with how fast his heart is beating. Dave’s questioning expression breaks into a grin.  
“God no, I’ll never get any like that.” He jokes. Bro snorts.  
“Rude.” He replies.  
“Suck it up nerd.” Dave counters. Bro can see the sparkle in Dave’s eyes right through his aviators. He holds Dave’s gaze with his own as their battle of insults continues.

“Fuckin’ rich kid.”  
“Jerk.”  
“Bastard.”  
“Asshole.”

Bro isn’t sure when or how it happened, but he suddenly finds himself sitting a lot closer to Dave than he did before. A foreign touch startles him, until he realizes it’s Dave’s hand stroking his cheek.

“Dave,” Bro says softly.  
“Bro.” Dave smiles, and leans in. Bro holds his breath.

Their lips collide gently, testing at first, but then Dave shifts closer, and Bro’s hands reach up to carefully remove Dave’s shades. He sets them aside; Dave laces his arms around Bro’s neck, and draws him in once more. His mouth is hot against Bro’s own, his kisses following each other up rapidly- he tilts his head, and Bro breaks briefly to gasp for air, but then Dave is on him again, slow and demanding, and when Bro touches his tongue to Dave’s lips, he finds them already parted.

Not having kissed anyone in a while doesn’t keep Bro from taking the lead. He slides his tongue against Dave’s, traces up the roof of his mouth, curls and draws back, only to surge forward again- He feels Dave gasp against his lips, and then a dull sting, Dave’s fingers tightening in Bro’s hair. Bro slides a hand up Dave’s chest until he has a loose hold on the side of his neck. Dave’s pulse beats against the pad of his thumb, growing quicker by the second; it nearly rivals Bro’s own heartbeat, pounding violently in his temples.

When Bro pulls back Dave follows, keeping them connected. His fingertips dance across Bro’s neck as Bro sucks on Dave’s tongue, before he lets it slip in favor of teething at Dave’s bottom lip. He feels Dave moan, a soft sound vibrating in the back of his throat, and Bro’s skin catches fire. He strays from Dave’s lips, instead trailing wet kisses down his throat- Dave tips his head back, and uses his grip on Bro’s hair to keep him close. Dave’s skin smells like a mix of cotton and cologne, tastes salty under his tongue, and when Bro hears a sliver of Dave’s voice that sounds like his name, his body twitches with sparks. Their contact breaks, and when Bro pulls back they make brief eye contact before sharing one more chaste kiss. Then, Bro withdraws, and this time, Dave lets him.

They sit side by side on the futon, hands in their laps, panting quietly. Dave looks at his fingers, Bro looks at Dave’s parted lips. The music coming from the pause menu of the game seems louder somehow, though it might just be Bro’s heartbeat ringing in his ears, amplifying every sound around him. As if he only just remembered, Dave shoots towards the coffee table and retrieves his shades. Bro stares at the burning red of Dave’s eyes until it’s once more muted by the tinted lenses. Bro clears his throat. Dave looks up.

“So, uh, the oven’s probably,” Bro starts.  
“Yeah I bet it’s hot by now. Dave says quickly.  
“Yeah,” Bro awkwardly glances around the room.  
“Pizza sounds,” Dave straightens his tie.  
“Great, yeah.” Bro finishes.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Do you need help or,” Dave offers.  
“No I’m good, thanks.” Bro finally gets up from the futon, and runs a hand through his hair. Dave catches his sleeve before Bro can make a move towards the kitchen, and tugs him back down until their noses touch.

“Think it’ll hurt to give the oven another minute or two.” Dave says. He’s smiling, and Bro can feel their lips brushing together as he talks. He doesn’t have to think about his answer.

“Nah.” 


	8. Chapter 8

It’s cold, but bright, and the sunlight feels warm on Bro’s cheeks as he looks out over the city from the comfort of his roof. Bro pushes his shades further up the bridge of his nose.

He was hesitant when Dave gave them to him –“Trust me you’ll need these, paparazzi’s gonna be all over you when they figure out we’re a thing.”- but he’s starting to get used to it. At first, the wide triangular frames scratched his skin whenever Bro reached up to run a hand through his hair (where had Dave even found shades like these?). He was a quick learner though, and it soon felt like he hadn’t been a moment without those sunglasses hiding his eyes. He even felt a bit naked whenever he had to take them off, and Bro wondered if Dave felt the same about his aviators. It would explain him carrying a spare pair around wherever he went. He’d gotten Dave his own toothbrush weeks ago -he was even getting a second set of keys made-, but it wasn’t until Dave brought another pair of shades to his place that Bro truly felt like they were together.

Speaking of.

Bro looks over his shoulder when he hears the heavy door to the roof fall shut. Dave shows him a smile, and saunters over with two takeaway coffees in his hands. Bro takes one, sips it carefully, and sighs.

“I still don’t see what’s wrong with my coffee.” Bro says. Dave’s hand comes up to pat Bro’s shoulder sympathetically. Bro had a coffee machine in his kitchen that worked just fine, but for some reason, Dave almost panicked every time he offered to make some. Dave had taken to bringing his own coffee instead, bought from an Italian café nearby, and though his pride was somewhat damaged, Bro decided not to argue with a good thing.

“Think it’ll snow later?” Dave asks absently. Bro inspects the clouds, despite having no idea what to look for.  
“Dunno.” He ends up saying, and Dave hums.  
“Dude, if it snows we should totally have a snow strife up here.” Dave sounds childishly excited, and Bro can’t help but chuckle. The paparazzi would have a field day with that. Good thing they seemed apprehensive about scaling tall buildings for a shot or two. Probably because nine out of ten times when Dave was on a roof, he was armed, and no photographer was ready to face that kind of threat. Guess they weren’t all stupid.

Bro warms his fingers on the paper coffee cup, and when he glances to the side he sees Dave doing the same. It’s kind of weird, how someone like Dave is dating someone like Bro, but Bro has been out of the loop since forever when it comes to fame, and Dave just doesn’t seem to care. He’s happy, Bro thinks, that’s what Dave tells him anyway, and whenever Bro takes a moment to appreciate Dave’s soft features and sharp smile, Bro thinks he’s pretty damn happy too.

Bro’s hands get cold the instant he finishes his coffee, so he sets his cup down and holds Dave’s hand instead. Dave gives him a gentle squeeze, and they share a comfortable silence, breath coming out misty, shades reflecting the traffic lights below. It’s not quiet, nor peaceful, but it’s home, and it’s theirs.

“Hey, Dave.”  
“Hm?”  
“You sure we haven’t met before?”  
Dave gives Bro a questioning look. “Why?”  
“Not sure,” Bro says. “I just feel like I know you from somewhere.”

“I’m kind of an international celebrity.” Dave comments with a grin. “We get that a lot.”  
Bro snorts, and punches Dave’s shoulder. “Not like that, smartass.”

Dave pulls a face at Bro’s friendly assault, and rubs his arm. Bro rolls his eyes, sneaks an arm around Dave’s waist and tugs him closer. He leans in to kiss Dave’s cheek, but Dave tilts his head and catches his mouth instead.

“I don’t know.” Bro says once Dave pulls back. He tears his gaze from Dave’s lips and returns it to the view in front of him. More and more low-level clouds seem to be showing up, fluffy white against a clear-blue sky, and Bro thinks it may just snow after all.  
“This whole thing just,” He pauses to look for the right words. “It’s familiar.”

Dave hums, and rests his head on Bro’s shoulder. Their fingers interlace once more, and Dave strokes his thumb across the back of Bro’s hand. There’s a soft smile in his voice.

“Maybe in another life.”

_fin_


End file.
